


Targaryen. Stark. Snow.

by Star_Crow



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Tower of Joy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Crow/pseuds/Star_Crow
Summary: His name is Jaehaerys. Lyanna had spent some of her last breaths telling him so, but it couldn’t be that way. He couldn’t march back to Winterfell with a baby named Jaehaerys in his arm, claiming that he belonged to Ned. People would have the suspicion to start putting pieces together and that wasn’t what Ned or the child wanted.“I’ll call him Jon.”





	Targaryen. Stark. Snow.

“Ned,” Howland called gently. “We have to go.”

Eddard Stark had spent the last hours staring. On one hand, he had Lyanna. The little sister he’d watched out for since the day she was born. She was dead now. Her blood was everywhere. On her, on him, on the sheets, on the floor. He could smell it, mixed in with the cloying scent of the dying roses. The only thing that Rhaegar Targaryen had left her.

No, not quite true, Ned corrected himself, because in his other hand, he had the child. Undeniably Rhaegar’s. He had his solemn expression, the aura of constant grief. Other than that, the babe looked precious little like the Dragon Prince. He was all Lyanna. Ned wasn’t sure if that would make him easier or harder to live with. The boy couldn’t be more than a day or two old and yet Ned could barely bring himself to look his nephew in his painfully familiar dark eyes. They were haunting; deep and thoughtful. The eyes of a child that tens of thousands of men had unknowingly died for, but also, in ways even more heart-wrenching, the eyes of an orphan.

Ned would mourn his sister always but now he would mourn on his nephew’s behalf, too, because he could never know his mother. Perhaps he wouldn’t even get to know her identity. Knowledge is a powerful thing, too powerful.

“Go where?” Ned replied numbly, refusing to take his eyes away from Lyanna’s face. 

The crannogman took a step closer to the bed. “Anywhere but here. If we don’t return, Robert will come looking,” Howland shook his head sadly. “You know he’ll have that child killed in an instant.”

It took Ned a while to put the pieces together, took him a while to comprehend the magnitude of the situation. Viserys and Rhaella Targaryen were still alive, running from Westeros, but for how long? Robert was doing anything and everything to root out the Targaryen heir. Except that Viserys was no longer the rightful successor. With Rhaegar dead, this baby, his last child, was now the lawful ruler of the Iron Throne. The Targaryen loyalist houses could and would use him as a figurehead to oust Robert. Howland was right. If Robert found the child, he wouldn’t last the hour. He’d have the boy’s head dashed against a wall, just like he had to his brother, Aegon.

Ned tightened his grip around the child.

“I have to protect him. Keep him safe,” he said resolutely, giving Lyanna’s hand one last squeeze before he let go forever.

This was dangerous. So dangerous. If Robert ever found out that Ned was sheltering the Targaryen heir, their years of friendship were forfeit. He’d be executed for high treason. Howland, too, but the other lord did not protest, just put his hand on Ned’s shoulder.

Howland Reed looked over at the child. The babe was still awake but completely silent. He didn’t cry for his mother, almost as if he knew she was already gone, but lay gazing up at his uncle and the world beyond with the wise wariness of an old man.

“You could say he’s yours. Your bastard,” Howland suggested quietly. “He looks enough like you.”

In another life, this boy would have been a prince, gone on to be a king, even. Now he was being doomed to the life a lord’s bastard. Not a nice one, by any stretch.

“Better than being dead,” Howland seemed to finish Ned’s thoughts for him.

Ned could think of no better way to save his nephew. Bastards were the dark horses in the world, shadows, always there but intangible like smoke. If he said that the boy was his bastard, there would be speculation, hearsay. It might push Lady Catelyn away from him forever at the thought of disloyalty. His honour would be tarnished but no one would ever care enough to find the truth wrapped thickly in the lies. The boy would simply blend in. A dragon with the face of a wolf. He would be safe, for sure, in the belief that Ned was his father. He’d grow strong, brave and learned. He’d have as much love as Ned could show him without drawing attention. He’d have a new brother to replace the siblings who’d lives had ended before his had even begun.

His name is Jaehaerys. Lyanna had spent some of her last breaths telling him so, but it couldn’t be that way. He couldn’t march back to Winterfell with a baby named Jaehaerys in his arm, claiming that he belonged to Ned. People would have the suspicion to start putting pieces together and that wasn’t what Ned or the child wanted. 

“I’ll call him Jon,” Ned decided, getting to his feet with Jon in his arms. The pair of maids that had been here had disappeared. He’d have to have faith in their silence. Rhaegar wouldn’t have had them with Lyanna if he thought they weren’t trustworthy. He looked at Lyanna’s face and a twinge of guilt dashed through him. 

“Jon, for now. One day, I’ll tell him the truth.”

But what was the truth?

Jon Targaryen.

Jon Stark. 

Jon Snow.

“A good northern name,” Howland nodded approvingly. “Jon Snow.”

Ned flinched. Lyanna deserved more than for her son being a lowly bastard. He could legitimise the boy as his own, if he wanted. A Stark. Jon was entitled to it, as his mother’s son, but it was too risky. There were only days between his own son, Robb, and Jon. Legitimising Jon would mean that if Robb died, the gods forbid, Jon would come before any of his other children and succeed him as the Warden of the North. It wasn’t fair on Catelyn to do such a thing when she had done nought to wrong him. Every lady intends for their babes to inherit a birthright. Making Jon a Stark could deny Catelyn that dream.

No, he would be Jon Snow. 

The Bastard of Winterfell.


End file.
